30. THIRTY
THIRTY
SNOWMAN
If a single look could break a man, theirs would be the one. If a single sound could rip the soul clean out, it would be her cries.
I sat on the bench outside the café where she worked. I knew it well—it was mine. I knew she struggled after me, and it was tearing me apart to watch her from a distance.
She didn't know I was still around. That I cried when she cried. I smiled faintly when she laughed as if her happiness still had the power to reach me. She didn't know I stayed away because losing her made me lose myself.
She didn't know that I kept waiting. Watching her stare at her phone, like she was trying to work up the courage to press that number one on speed dial. I waited every time, hoping—foolishly—that she'd call. But the call never came.
I told myself I let her go. But deep down, I knew I never really did. And now, when I thought I was ready to let her see me again, I couldn't move. I couldn't face her.
If she knew my side of the story if she knew how much I waited for her, how I chained myself to the guilt every time she crossed my mind. How I made sure HE never knew where she was.
I lost myself when I lost you, Bree.
If only you knew how many nights I looked up at the stars, wondering if they'd ever align again. Wondering if they'd bring us back together. Wondering what if.
What if I'd just stayed? Would you still be here? Would she?
But this isn't my story to get a happy ending. It's yours.
Forgive me.
I sat on the bench outside her house, the icy wood biting through my jeans. The window light flickered off, leaving the house dark and still. I stayed, staring up at her window, hoping for just a shadow, a sign of her. Even a silhouette.
But there was nothing.
My jaw tightened, frustration knotting in my chest.
Another day lost. Another day without her.
A soft tap on my shoulder snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Why are you here?"
I turned, startled.
She stood behind me, her red pajamas poking out from under a long, heavy coat. It barely shielded her from the cold, and she was shivering. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes red and swollen, like she'd been crying for hours.
"Bree?"
"Why are you here?" she asked again, her voice sharp but trembling. "What are you trying to do?"
I opened my mouth, but the words caught.
What was I trying to do?
"Speak, Thor." Her voice cracked, her hands balling into fists. "Please."
I stood, the coffee I'd been holding slipping from my hand, the dark liquid spilling over the snow like ink.
"Bree," I started, stepping toward her.
She didn't move, didn't flinch. But her eyes brimmed with fresh tears. "Why are you here now? After everything?"
I hesitated, my breath hitching. "I—"
Before I could finish, she let out a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. "You don't even know, do you? You just show up, expecting... I don't even know what."
"I needed to see you," I said, my voice low.
Her eyebrows furrowed, and her lip quivered. "You needed to see me?" Her voice rose. "What about when I needed you? What about when your daughter needed you?"
"Bree, I—"
"Don't." Her voice cracked, and she turned away, her shoulders shaking. "Don't stand here in the cold and pretend like this fixes anything."
I reached out, grabbing her arm gently. She froze but didn't pull away. Not yet.
"I love you," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I love you, Bree. I always have."
She shook her head, a small, bitter sound escaping her lips. "You don't get to say that. Not now. Not when I was finally learning how to forget you."
I stepped closer, trying to catch her eyes, but she wouldn't look at me. "I left because I thought it was the only way to protect you. To protect both of you."
Her laugh was sharp and hollow. "Protect me? That's what you're calling it?"
"Yes," I said, my voice firming. "I left because Frida knows. She knows it was me."
That made her stop. She turned to face me, "You're lying."
"I thought leaving would fix it. I thought it would make it better for you, for her. But it didn't. It only made things worse."
Her expression softened for just a moment, but then she shook her head, walking away. "You were never here, Thor. Not really. If you were, you'd know her name."
"Snow Tora," I said quietly.
Bree stopped, her back stiffening.
"I know she named her teddy Bambi because she loves the story. I know you tell her about me before bed, even when you don't want to. I know you give her your phone when she's scared and tell her to press one to call me, even though you don't believe I'll answer."
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned away again, her shoulders heaving. I didn't move, didn't try to stop her this time. I just stood there in the cold.
"I'm sorry," I said softly, but I wasn't sure if she even heard me.
She crumpled to the floor, her knees hitting the snow.
"I did," I said. It felt like the truth was choking me. "Every time."
Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing.
"Fuck you!" she screamed. "You saw me struggling every goddamn day! Every single fucking day, and you just stood there. Watching from a distance. Fuck you, Thor!"
I took a step toward her, my heart pounding, but she thrust her hand up, stopping me in my tracks.
"No!" she yelled. "Don't come any closer."
"Bree," I whispered, pleading with her, but she wouldn't even look at me.
"It's worse," she said, her voice quieter now, trembling. "It's worse knowing you were here the whole time. Knowing you were close enough to help but didn't. That's worse than you leaving. Twice. And not looking back."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Tell me. Please."
"Call Frida," she said. "Call her right now and tell her where you are. Tell her you would rather rot in jail than keep hiding from your own daughter."
My chest tightened, and I stared at her, frozen. "Bree, I—"
"Do it!" she shouted, her chin lifting defiantly. "One call, Thor. That's all I'm asking."
I swallowed hard, my hands clammy as I pulled my phone from my pocket.
My fingers trembled as I dialed, and the ringing on the other end seemed impossibly loud. The operator's voice finally broke through the silence. "122, what's your emergency?"
I hesitated for a moment, then forced the words out. "I've killed people."
The line went quiet. Bree froze, her eyes widening as her hands flew to her mouth.
"Eighteen men," I continued, my voice steady even though my whole body felt like it was breaking apart. "And ten women. I... I cut them. Used their parts to build snowmen." My breath caught, and I looked at Bree, her tears were now streaming freely. "I did it to mock them. To mock their lives."
The operator's breath hitched. Still, I pressed on. "And Jan Johansson," I said. "The chief of police. He and his lover, Donna. I burned them alive. Buried their sons, Josh and Vic, because they abused the woman I love."
The operator finally found her voice. "What's your name, sir?" she asked, her tone unsteady.
"Snowman," I said, staring straight at Bree. "Thor Karlsson."
"Where are you now?" she asked, but before I could answer, Bree lunged forward, grabbing the phone from my hand and ending the call.
Her palm cracked across my cheek before I could react, the slap ringing on my skin, leaving nothing but a red trail behind.
"You idiot!" she cried. "Why would you do that?"
"You told me to call," I said, shrugging.
I have nothing left to lose.
Her face crumpled, and then she grabbed me, pulling me close. Her lips met mine in a desperate, angry kiss, her hands gripping my jacket like she was holding on to life. "Run, Thor," she whispered against my mouth, her voice breaking. "Please. Run."
I shook my head, cupping her face in my hands. My thumbs brushed the tears from her cheeks as I kissed her again, softer this time, leaving clues in her mouth.
"No more running," I whispered, my breath mingling with hers. "Not anymore."
The sound of sirens pierced the air, growing louder with every second. Red and blue lights flashed around us. Commands were shouted, and the crunch of boots on snow drew closer.
We didn't stop. We didn't care. We just held on, kissing like the world was ending. Maybe it was.
They tore me away from her, their hands rough as they pulled me back and cuffed me. Bree stood there, her arms hanging limply at her sides, tears streaming down her face.
I smiled at her, as they dragged me away. "See you around, birdie," I said softly.
She didn't respond, just stood there, watching as they led me out into the cold.
Snowtime.
They could stop Thor, but they couldn't stop The Phantom.